Kids, Fishing and Their Lasting Legacy

Arizona Outdoorsman / AZOD

Kids, Fishing and Their Lasting Legacy

By G.J. Sagi
Author of Fishing Arizona
wildgeese177@earthlink.net

His contagious grin beamed ear-to-ear excitement.

"I caught him," he shouted for all to hear after his finny quarry was safely ashore. "He tried to take all my line," he explained in rapid fire. "But I caught him. Here he is. Are we gonna keep him? Can we show mom?"

The commotion of my 6-year-old son catching his first fish had attracted a sizeable gallery of onlookers along shore, and although details of the battle were sketchy at first, they slowly came into focus. That acrobatic 6-inch sunfish would be forever etched into his memory, and rightfully so.

I’ll never forget my first fish. In fact, some of the clearest memories I have of my parents are of uninterrupted quality time in the out of doors. It didn’t matter if we caught anything. We had good, clean, family fun.

I must have been five, maybe six--hardly old enough to roam the forest alone, much less hike to a nearby lake before my parents woke. Yet, that’s what I did. Everyone knows the fish bite best at sunrise, or so I rationalized as I dressed quietly in the tent, grabbed my gear and headed toward the lake.

I didn’t wake my parents, which as you can imagine caused quite a stir when they discovered me standing at the lake with a newfound friend who was, unlike me, capable of tying proper fishing knots on monofilament line. I did manage to catch a single trout that, true to form, put up a
gallant and acrobatic struggle. Its watery explosions are still fresh in my memory--some forty years later--as is the panicked look and ultimately, relief on my mother's face.

It wasn't long ago that I had the honor of taking my grandchildren on their first fishing trip. The morning was packed with kid-pleasing fun--feeding the ducks, watching boats and sneaking an unsanctioned snack or two. Then, finally, a small largemouth bass answered the dinner bell and the battle was one. All three grandsons gathered as the "lunker" made run after run on one of their rods, testing the tackle and jumping a couple times.

It was quite a spectacle, and despite the fact it failed to draw a crowd, it was an event I'm sure they'll remember forever. I know I sure will because seconds after they landed it, all three, in unison, began shouting, "Put it back, put it back." I guess it just wasn't what they expected, and after we put it back, all three promptly went back to fishing.

It's a memory I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. For a few hours I had the grandkids alone, far away from cilivization's din, sharing the kind of simple pleasure where trophy size doesn't matter. No, it's not always what you expect, but every memory is a keeper.

This Saturday, June 7, take advantage of Arizona's Free Fishing Days by writing a few memories of your own. Pick up a rod and reel, and take someone fishing. You'll be glad you did.